Prince of Time (Book Two in the After Cilmeri series)

by Sarah Woodbury

  “For what you’ve been through these last days; for bringing you here in the middle of a war; for wanting to tie you to me if that’s not what you really want.”

  Bronwen rested her head on my chest. “David was right to think I was unprepared for your world. Nothing I learned in all those years of studying gave me any real understanding of what it might be like to live here...or love a knight.”

  I breathed deeply.

  “It’s going to take a while to clear my head from everything that’s happened,” she said.

  “I don’t know what to say except to repeat that I am sorry,” I said. “I can’t make it better for you.”

  “It’s better already,” Bronwen said.

  We stayed together for the rest of the day, and were the first to warn of the riders coming from the north. We heard them before we saw them, galloping their horses across the bridge over the Wye to the north of Buellt. Then Prince Dafydd’s banner came into view, streaming from a pole Cadwallon held.

  Dafydd must have run all the way from the upper rooms in the keep when he heard the news. “Twenty men have outsped the others,” he said.

  “That will be Bevyn,” I said.

  “He’s going to kill me,” Dafydd said, shaking his head. “This is the second time I’ve done this to him.” He trotted down the stairs and ordered the guards to raise the portcullis. He went through alone, on foot, to wait for his men to come to him.

  The last time he was separated from his men, when he’d survived the kidnapping and freed himself, they’d encircled him with cheers and jubilation. This time his men rode forward silently, slowing their horses to a stop ten paces away.

  Bevyn dismounted, removed his helmet, and settled it on his hip. “My lord,” he said.

  “It is I, this time, who must ask your forgiveness,” Dafydd said, taking a step towards him.

  “Why?” Bevyn asked as he too moved closer. “Did you do wrong? You’ve paid some kind of price already, I see. Did Ieuan set your nose? He clearly bungled the job.”

  “Because I didn’t tell you the truth, long ago,” Dafydd said, ignoring the banter.

  “We saw you jump,” Bevyn said, and he gestured behind him to the men with him. “All of us.”

  “And disappear,” Dafydd said.

  “Yes,” Bevyn said. Their eyes met. Bevyn was waiting for something, needing something from Dafydd before he could let it go.

  “I took Ieuan to the land of Madoc, to save his life,” Dafydd said, “and brought him home again. My mistake was not in leaving, but in not warning you that I might need to.”

  “Magic?” Bevyn asked.

  He’s testing Dafydd. From this moment, Bevyn’s loyalty and that of all his men depends on the answer to this question.

  “I only seek to do God’s bidding,” Dafydd said. “I can’t help who I am. I can only help what I do. In leaving you, I saved Ieuan’s life; in returning, I saved my father’s. We can spend our lives fighting what happens to us, or learn to accept what is given.”

  “Did you die?” That was Trahearn, from the back of the group. “Did God send you back to us?”

  “I went to another place, for a time, one I can’t begin to describe to you. Ieuan was with me,” Dafydd turned to look at me. I raised a hand. “Perhaps the words will come more easily to him.”

  It was enough. Bevyn and Dafydd embraced. A cheer went up and the men circled their prince, pummeling his back.

  “Careful, careful.” Dafydd held out his hands to keep them at bay. “I’m not entirely well. My torso matches my face, perhaps worse.”

  “Your mother will not be pleased,” Bevyn said, with perhaps a bit too much relish.

  “And here she is,” Dafydd said. More horses thundered across the bridge and made their way up the hill to where Dafydd and his men stood. Aaron, Math, and Anna, tiny Cadell slung across her chest, and finally Marged. The sea of men parted so that Dafydd could reach his mother and help her off her horse.

  “Hi, Mom,” he said as he set her on her feet. She looked up at him and it was like he broke in two. He folded her in his arms, put his head down on her shoulder, and cried. Her cloak muffled his sobs, but there was no mistaking them. Marged wrapped an arm around his neck and another around his waist and held him to her, absorbing his anguish, with her hand on the back of his head.

  Bevyn jerked his head toward the castle and everyone silently filed around the two of them until they stood alone. I met Bevyn and Math at the gate and we hovered there, not wanting to leave them unattended, but not wanting to intrude.

  “A man can only take so much,” Math said.

  “I have much to tell you,” I said. “Most of which you won’t even believe.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  David

  “So what did you do?” I asked. I felt drained, but at the same time happier than I’d been in weeks. For the first time in a long time, what I thought of as my family was all together: Mom and Dad; Math and Anna with Cadell cradled in her arms, nursing; Bronwen and Ieuan; Aaron; Bevyn, who was the only one standing, his shoulder braced against the wall by the door; and Gwenllian, who sat at my feet, whispering to her rag doll.

  “At first, we were, uh, concerned my lord, that our eyes deceived us,” Bevyn said. “I was unsure if you’d fallen onto a ledge and hidden in a cave in the cliff face, or if you’d fallen so fast that I missed where you lay.”

  “But then an English soldier dismounted at the edge of the cliff and peered over it. He couldn’t see anything,” Aaron said. “We watched him shake his head and shrug at his companion. They must have thought you’d fallen into the water, though it’s not directly underneath the cliff in that location.”

  “The soldiers were turning away, not even bothering to capture the horses, when we shot them,” Bevyn said. “After that, we hunted all over the cliff for you, my lord. We wouldn’t have left you if you were to be found.”

  “It’s all right, Bevyn,” I said. “We weren’t to be found.”

  “I knew it,” Aaron said. “The moment you disappeared I knew what I’d seen. It just took some time for my heart to understand what my brain was telling me.”

  “How did you explain it to the men?” I asked.

  “Aaron told the tale,” Bevyn said. “He’ll find himself work as a bard if he’s not careful. He spoke about the land of Madoc, for those who’d not ridden in the van, and implied that it was a place of safety, from which you would come again when you were ready.”

  “Like Avalon; like Arthur,” Math said. He sat with Anna beside him, while she studied me, her face solemn. We’d have a lot to talk about later, when we could be alone.

  “Your men understood the danger you were in, Dafydd,” Mom said. “I heard some of them discussing it in the days after they arrived at Dinas Bran, and it has grown since the messenger brought word that you were at Buellt. They called it a miracle—God holding Wales in the palm of his hand.”

  “It was a miracle,” Dad said. “I won’t hear anything to the contrary.” He sat beside Mom, one hand resting gently on his belly, the other holding her hand.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that the dragon banner would be seen as Arthur’s flag?” I asked. “I’d never have flown it had I known.”

  “That’s why we didn’t tell you,” Dad said. “You chose it in innocence, and we decided to honor your choice.”

  “I’m no Arthur,” I said. “They can’t think it.”

  “Can’t they?” Bevyn said, his voice flat. “You can’t stop them.”

  “Especially considering what he’s been up to lately,” Ieuan said.

  Father eased back in his chair, stretching out his legs in front of him and crossing his ankles. “Our young prince has a plan to expel the English from Wales,” he said, satisfaction in his voice. “It’s only a matter of time.”

  * * * * *

  Eventually everyone left, even Math with Cadell, now asleep, understanding that I needed some time alone with Anna.

  “You came
back,” she said, asking the same question Dad had, though with a slightly different intent. “We had three days between when Aaron and Bevyn arrived and when your message came, in which we feared for you—more than usual, that is.” She walked slowly around the room as she talked. She picked up a paperweight and set it down, fiddled with father’s pen, and set it down. I perched on the desk beside where she stood.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t come back?”

  “It was more a matter of whether you could come back. I assumed you would if it were possible, but didn’t know how difficult you might find it to return. I confess, I also felt concern that the longer you were in the twenty-first century, the more natural it might feel, and the easier to stay.”

  “Aunt Elisa offered to have me to live with her,” I said.

  “You didn’t even consider it, did you?” Anna said.

  I shrugged. “I went to the drug store with Aunt Elisa.”

  Anna’s eyes lit.

  “Yes, I have things for you!” I said. I pulled her presents out of my backpack.

  “A toothbrush!” Anna said. I handed her the rest: pain reliever for Cadell, a couple of the antibiotic tubes, a jar of lotion.

  “Anyway,” I continued, “it was hard to decide what we should buy—or rather, what I would ask Aunt Elisa to buy—not because so much of it was vital to survival, but because so much of it wasn’t.”

  “You’ve lived without all of it for three years, so now you can’t remember why you needed it in the first place,” Anna said.

  “Exactly,” I said.

  “You’ve got some antibiotics here,” she said. She held up two plastic containers, each with a dozen pills.

  “Those would be a major exception to what I’m saying. Aunt Elisa emptied her medicine cabinet for me. What they’re for is written on the label.”

  “That’s what we really need to make a difference,” Anna said. “Medicine like this.”

  “That’s why I brought these,” I said, pulling the sheaf of papers from the pack, which was now nearly empty. Anna took the stack and began leafing through the pages.

  “Lots of weaponry, here, David,” she said. “What’s up with that?”

  “We need to keep the English at bay, Anna,” I said. “Until we achieve peace, we won’t be able to make any of the changes in Wales that I’m hoping for.”

  She looked over at me. “You have big plans, don’t you?”

  “Yup.”

  “But you can’t do it all, can you?” she said. She shuffled the pages and took out a chunk. “Give the information about medicine to me. I may not be able to fight with you, or want to fight with you for that matter, but this I can do.”

  “You mean it?” I asked.

  “From all the books you’ve read,” she said, “what is the one field of knowledge open to women in this age? What is the only thing I am allowed to master?”

  I got it. “Herb lore,” I said.

  “Well, that’s me,” Anna said. “I’m good with plants and I know how to learn—and how to read and write. What is penicillin but moldy bread? This is something I can do; something I want to do.”

  “Okay,” I said. “It’s all yours.”

  Anna hugged the papers to her chest. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for the gifts and for thinking of me.”

  “I think of you a lot,” I said. “I was watching you when we were talking with the others. You know what it meant for me to go back and what it means for me to come home.”

  “It’s funny that the least of your concerns was that the King of England attempted to murder you.”

  “When it was happening, same as when I’m in the midst of a battle, there’s no time for thinking. It’s only when it’s over that I realize how close I came to dying.”

  “I don’t think I could do what you’ve done,” Anna said.

  “You’ve had a baby in medieval Wales,” I pointed out. “I think we’re even.”

  Anna shrugged and changed the subject. “Give the stuff on education to Mom. She’s bored. Between her and Aaron, they’ll figure out how to get things started.”

  “You mean, like, delegate?” I asked. “Let other people in on my vision for Wales?” I laughed. “I’ve had this picture of the future, Anna, that I’ve been too embarrassed to share. If we are very, very lucky, Wales could become the center of the medieval world. I want that. I want to try to make that happen, but I was afraid to say anything because it sounds...well...innocent and naïve...and unrealistic.”

  “You aren’t the only one to have plans, David,” Anna replied. “I’m not exactly thrilled about how society works here either.”

  “I know that—”

  “What I’m saying is that you don’t have to go it alone,” Anna said. “Everyone may think you’re the return of Arthur, but that doesn’t mean you have to buy into the myth yourself.”

  “I don’t!” I said. “I’d never think that. You know I didn’t ask to be the Prince of Wales.”

  “But you’ve chosen it now and you must act the part in public, as long as you realize you have a better, smarter round table surrounding you than Arthur did.”

  “I do realize that,” I said. “I would’ve realized it sooner if I’d thought about it.”

  “Good,” Anna said. “Now, can we fight?”

  “What?” I asked.

  “It’s been a month since Cadell was born and I’m out of shape. He’s taking a nap so I have time right now. Can we fight?”

  “Sure, I said, “as long as we take it easy and you don’t actually touch my belly.”

  Anna laughed. “Nor mine!”

  I sat in a chair and pulled off my boots while Anna slipped out of her shoes. “Eight basic attacks?”

  “Right,” she said.

  “Don’t you want to change out of your dress first?” I asked.

  “Into what?” Anna said. “I’m a lady, David.”

  “Why do I always end up apologizing to you for having to live here?” I said. “I’m sorry life is this way, Anna.”

  “It is this way,” she said. “I can cope. Besides, if I’m going to actually use karate, it will be while I’m in a dress. I rode here in it; I can fight in it.”

  We met in the middle of the floor. I was a foot taller and outweighed her by a good eighty pounds, but sometimes being smaller had its advantages, particularly in making her quicker and more agile. I was careful not to hurt her as we went through the motions, because she was out of shape and I was bruised.

  “Take him down a peg, love,” Math called from the doorway.

  I grunted as Anna did exactly that—for a third time.

  “So that’s how it’s done,” Bronwen said.

  “Don’t go trying that,” Ieuan muttered.

  Math laughed. “There may be drawbacks to having a wife from another land, Ieuan, but the ability to stand up for herself is not one of them.”

  “Come over here, Bronwen,” Anna said, having dropped me on the floor again. “I’ll show you a thing or two, something simple you can use in self-defense if you have to.”

  Bronwen and I traded places. “It’s a new world, Ieuan,” I said, leaning against the wall beside him. “Best get used to it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Bronwen

  “That was quite a display you put on with your sister the other day,” I said, picking up speed and shifting into second gear. “She taught me three simple things to do, and I suddenly feel much more confident.”

  “Just don’t get cocky,” David said. “You don’t want to have just enough information to be dangerous to yourself, rather than an attacker.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “Most of the techniques are relatively simple. You just have to be prepared to use them, and not hesitate, because hesitation will cost you whatever advantage you might have had. Believe me, I know. If your opponent has a knife, every second you delay increases your chance of getting cut.”

  “That’s why you moved in on that guy b
ack at Penn State,” I said, beginning to understand. “It wasn’t because you were being macho or brave, but because you had chosen to act.”

  “Better to act than react,” David said. “Especially since you’re a woman, and like Anna, not a big person. If you have a chance to act, you do it, and you make it count.” We rolled over the Irfon Bridge before David spoke again. “Things are going to start happening pretty quickly now.”

  “As if things have been slow up until this point?” I asked.

  David laughed. “I’ve got Ieuan in pursuit of bat guano—apparently we’ve more than ten different kinds of bats native to Wales—a lucky happenstance—and Math is overseeing the quest for sulfur and charcoal. Before another week passes, we’re going to launch a full scale assault on Painscastle and Brecon. Our black powder is going to bring down the walls and usher in the medieval equivalent of an arms race. The technology exists out there; it’s just not widely used or understood. Don’t think Hereford is going to take our pre-eminence sitting down.”

  David’s list of weaponry was daunting. He wanted exploding missiles to fire from trebuchets, whether comprised of my Greek fire compound or black powder, fire arrows, black powder kegs for mining under castle walls, and gasoline bombs. I was in charge of the gasoline and the Greek fire.

  Another hundred yards and I turned onto a track to the right. It brought us to the bottom of a slope that led to a meadow. Above that was a tree-covered hill.

  “Stop here,” David said, and got out of the car. He spoke to his men who’d followed behind us as we drove, and had them set up a perimeter around the meadow and the trees by which I parked. David leaned into the car. “We’re going through those bushes, just to your left. Follow me.”

  He disappeared between two thickets and I got out of the car to follow him, trying not to catch my hair in the brambles. I came out the other side into a small clearing. A thick screen of trees surrounded it on all sides. Aunt Elisa’s minivan sat in the middle of it. Wow. Even after all that had happened, there were times when I felt normal, that thirteenth century Wales didn’t seem so different. And then the distance to the twenty-first century would stop me in my tracks.